Dilema de Détention
by Inks Inc
Summary: Tim's always had a soft spot for all things technology, especially new technology. When a deadly combination of both new and prohibited technology presents a special sort of challenge, he has no choice but to succumb, leaving an irritated Gibbs in his wake. WARNING: Brief spanking. Gibbs/Tim - Father/Son. Completed One-Shot.


The hesitant approach and hasty retreat was the third in the series of unsuccessful journeys Gibbs had spied out of the corner of his eye. Looking up in the dusk soaked bull pen, he rubbed his eyes tiredly. "McGee. Unless you're having some kind of seizure, could you sit down at your desk and stop giving me motion sickness?" Throwing himself down in his chair with all the grace of buckled buffalo, Tim groaned inwardly in defeat. Shaking his head slightly, Gibbs reluctantly turned back to his file. It was just he and McGee in the bull pen and the quarterly reports deadline was looming large. It was going to be a long, long night lighted with midnight oil.

Usually, this was an unpleasant task that Gibbs undertook alone. But when Tim had spectacularly screwed up in the field earlier on, he'd been conscripted into help after a lecture so biting; even Tony had kept his mouth well and truly shut. He'd also made a mental note to never touch shiny technology that costed more than ten years of his salary before accidentally dropping such technology. He'd never seen such a hysterical woman in all his life. Gibbs had been furious. He had warned them all, paws off. It was a condition of their visit to the site, but Tim hadn't been able to help himself. And now he was paying for it. Looking down at his never ending stack of files, McGee resisted the urge to scream in frustration.

He knew he shouldn't have touched it, but it was _new._ It had been so beautiful. Was it his fault that the ridiculously hot lab had made his hands sweaty? Scowling, he looked down and re-read his tenth file miserably. He glanced at the clock again and again and wondered desperately how long Gibbs was intending on keeping him there. The question had slipped to the top of his tongue eight times in total now before he had bit it back in a sense of self preservation. It was now eight fifteen pm. If he got out at nine thirty at the latest, he could still make it. Everyone else had knocked off at six so surely three and a half hours of unpaid overtime would suffice and assuage the boss' anger. Swallowing dryly, he assessed the stack of files on his desk. Even with his advanced reading speed, natural talent for proof reading and his analytical mind, he would struggle. His eyes roved over the stack and a sense of purpose gripped him like snake venom.

He would struggle. But he could do it.

He began reading with a fervour, turning pages like the wind. His eyes ached and he was accumulating paper cuts at a truly alarming rate, but he was making progress. Gibbs left for coffee three times in the midst of his frenzy and he didn't even acknowledge his departures, those three seconds being ones he couldn't afford to lose. The clock seemed to speed up just because he wanted it to slow down and it was an exhausting race, but he made it. He actually made it. Pulling his last file towards him at nine nineteen, he deposited back on the completed stack at nine twenty nine. Breathing a sigh of relief and pride, he wiped a hand across his damp brow and steeled himself. Gibbs was engrossed in his own stack, his reading glasses perched half way down the bridge of his nose. Scooping the stack up in his arms, he firmly told himself that he was a strong, independent man that didn't need no positive reinforcement. Landing on the outside of Gibbs' desk, he took a bracing breath and placed the stack on his surface top.

"Boss? I've finished my files now. All of them."

Gibbs looked up slowly, signing off on a report with an agitated flourish. "Good," he muttered distractedly, "Go on and get another pile then. You know where they live. Be quick about it because we're going to be here all night at his rate." Dropping his head back down, he didn't see the look of utter horror tinged misery that splashed across McGee's face. "But..but Boss," he stammered, "It's already nine thirty and I had plans." With an almost slow motion drama, Gibbs set down his pen and leaned back in his chair with a stony glare. "Oh, you had plans did you? Big plans? Exciting plans? I know all about plans, McGee. I had plans too, you know. Great plans. I had plans to go to that lab today and conduct a professional interview with people who had no obligation to speak to us, didn't want to speak to us and required urging from the _Director_ to speak to us. But that didn't really work out the way I _planned,_ now did it?"

McGee gulped.

"Well, no," he agreed quietly. "But, c'mon Boss please, I said I was sorry. Forgetting of course that I wasn't supposed to say sorry, but I did. I've been here three and a half hours later than everyone else. Ziva and Tony didn't touch a single file! I was supposed to meet up with the guys from college to review the new GigPro twelve. Matty only got a prototype because his uncle works at the manufacturers and we have to have it back by tomorrow morning, first light. And they have to leave at midnight to get back in time. _Please_ Boss, please can I go? I will never touch another _anything_ in the field again. I swear on my life. So can I go now? Please? Pretty please?"

Gibbs arched a brow, tapping his pen thoughtfully against his chin.

"How about this. You go and get some files. You bring those files to your desk. You sit at your desk. You work on those files. You will be dismissed when I dismiss you. You learn your lesson and we all live happily ever after." He batted his eyelashes sarcastically when McGee didn't move. "Pretty please?" Feeling his heart sink into the depths of hell, Tim knew resistance was futile. With his shoulders slumping under the realisation that he was missing out on a technological experience of a lifetime, he nodded sadly and set off with a hangman's walk towards the file room. Gibbs watched him go and waited for the anger to lick him about how the kid had acted. But it didn't. The sad gate, the caved shoulders and the barely there sighing didn't anger him. It damned well bothered him. Like watching a puppy sit in a dejected heap, furthering his suspicions that he was growing soft.

"McGee! Get your butt back here."

Stopping slowly and reversing himself, Tim approached the desk once more with a look more befitting a grieving widower than a reasonably chastised agent of the law. Standing as his junior agent approached, Gibbs rounded his desk and leaned against it with his arms folded firmly across his chest. "This thing, this techno whatsit. It's important to you?" More than slightly wrong footed, Tim gaped for a moment before nodding. "Well, yeah Boss. It's really important. It's like…uhh, you being given the opportunity to taste the most distilled bourbon from that distillery you like, before anyone else." He blanched then. "Not that I'm implying you have an alcohol problem," he added hastily, letting out a nervous laugh. "Man's gotta have a tipple, right?" Biting his lip painfully to stop the grin he felt escaping, Gibbs nodded. "So you're telling me that this testing thing is a once in a lifetime sort of gig? Something you can't get back?"

Tim nodded so vigorously the room spun, before being seized with some self awareness.

"Yes Boss, but you're right. You warned me not to touch it and I did, nearly breaking it. I guess it's fitting that I don't get to test a different piece of technology." He threw his head towards the file room. "I'll just go and grab those cases and get on with it." He nodded and turned on his heel leaving Gibbs in a state of bemusement. Reaching out to grab the kid's arm he stood up and sighed. "McGee. Take that damned puppy look off your face, it makes me want to adopt you from some sort of shelter." He reached around then suddenly, extracting a solid wood ruler from his desk. Before Tim could even blink, he was suddenly seized and tucked under Gibbs' arm on the receiving end of a sharp flurry of burning swats, somehow managing to cover the entire breadth of his prone behind. By the time he came to his sensibilities and squawked in pain, shocked by how much a simple ruler hurt, Gibbs had released him with a quick ruffle of his hair.

"Don't ever do that in the field again. Now go, test the doo-dah. Knock yourself out."

Rounding his desk once more and throwing the ruler down, he slumped in his chair and pulled another file towards him as McGee stood rooted to the spot, rubbing his stinging behind. Rolling his eyes, he looked up. "Tim. Did I stutter? Go. Be free. At least one of us will be. If I look up again and you're still standing there you _will_ be going back to your desk." Hardly daring to believe his luck, Tim gave his butt one last rub and nodded with such enthusiasm that Gibbs had to bite his lip again as he caught it in his peripheral vision. "Thanks, Boss! I won't. You're the best, no matter what we say about you sometimes!" With that, he was gone, like a bullet from a gun leaving Gibbs to lean back in his chair and shout pointlessly after him.

"Wait. What do you all say about me? After I let you go? You cheeky little…"

…..

A/N: Random One-Shot, born out of my flu-ey state!

….


End file.
